Mist rolled across the field, weaving through the trees and out into the open like a snake through the grass. The Arkers stood, waiting.
An eerie silence was cast over the land, hushing even the most restless of the teenagers. It was too quiet.
Bellamy didn't like it one bit.
Octavia stood stoically on his left, arms crossed and unflinching. After months of fighting with Bellamy, she eventually gave in and saw Clarke's side of things. Now, though she would never admit it, she wanted Clarke back.
She wanted her friend back.
On the other hand, the older Blake was fidgeting, squinting at the tree line in frustration. She should have been there by now.
They had finally managed to track down Clarke, after weeks of Bellamy begging Abby and Kane to look for her. Turns out she fled to Polis, and was now somewhat immersed in the Grounder way of life.
But Clarke's people needed her more than ever. Tensions were rising again between the Trikru and the Arkers.
Finally, shapes appeared from the forest, and a small army's worth of Grounders emerged from the trees. At their head, was Clarke Griffin.
Dressed in black, a sword strapped to her side, eyeing the Arkers. Her blonde hair was done up in a intricate pattern of braids. She was every bit as menacing as the Grounders around her.
They kept advancing until both parties were an equal distance from each other. Clarke raised a hand, and the warriors behind her halted in unison. One of them shouted something in Trigedasleng, a phrase familiar to the Arkers.
"Are they friend or foe?"
Clarke turned and answered in perfect Trigedasleng, and soothed the agitated crowd with rapid dialogue that could not be followed by the Arkers. Only Octavia could understand, and relayed it to her confused comrades.
"They are the Sky People. They are trustworthy, and not to be harmed. Understood?" Hands dropped from weapons, shoulders relaxed.
To which they all replied, "Sha, Wanheda."
Octavia's eyes widened and she whispered, "Wanheda?"
Bellamy glanced at his sister. "What does that mean?"
Octavia pursed her lips. "It means 'Commander of Death'."
The blonde turned back to face her people, anxious faces filled with a strange mixture of hope and grief. Blue eyes, hardened to the colour of a winter sea, scanned the Arkers.
Bellamy couldn't take it anymore. To hell with it, he thought as he pushed past Kane and ran to Clarke. Two guards on either side were about to draw their weapons, but relaxed when Clarke murmured a word in their language.
A second later Clarke was engulfed in Bellamy's embrace, squeezing her tight and lifting her off the ground. He buried his face in her neck, nuzzling the spot where her pulse quickened. Hot breath warmed her skin and sent an involuntary shiver of pleasure rolling down her spine. Elated, he didn't even notice that Clarke stiffened at the contact, before awkwardly patting his waist.
Frowning, Bellamy pulled away. Peering into her eyes, he saw she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. His voice quavered as he spoke.
"Clarke? Whats wrong? Aren't you happy to see me- I mean us?"
After a tortured glance at the people behind her, she stepped toward him and spoke in a low, even tone.
"Of course I am, but I'm not allowed to show it. If it looks like I am going to show any disloyalty, I will be killed." She hissed.
The boy's eyebrows furrowed. "But you're their leader. Killing you is a capital crime, isn't it?" He questioned.
Her head bobbed. "Yes, and if it happened then Lexa would hunt down whoever did it and have them publicly tortured to death. They respect me, most of all they still fear me, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"So you're not coming back with us." His tone was wounded, accusatory.
Clarke watched the light fade from his gorgeous brown eyes, fists clench, jaw muscles tick. He angrily stared at a fixed point in the mud. It was so sad to her that he automatically assumed the worst.
Her hand shot out and gave his a quick squeeze. Hope glimmered on his face.
"No, I am. Lexa will take over as their Commander fully, and we will either have to look over our shoulders or run for our lives. Depends on how they take it." The warning tone in her voice made him feel apprehensive, but delighted at the same time.
Unable to contain his grin, he watched Clarke whirl around to face the Grounders once more. Her voice rang out, clear and concise, as she spoke in flawless Trigedasleng.
That may come in handy later.
It continued even when angry shouts rose from the mass of Grounders, some now brandishing weapons or pointing at the Arkers rudely. Clarke shouted over them, and they were eventually silenced.
As if some invisible force tugged at them, every last Grounder streamed back into the trees, leaving Clarke standing alone. She watched them go.
Clarke stood, back facing her people. Bellamy crossed the space between them and came from behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. For the first time in months, Clarke allowed herself to breathe, leaning back against his chest and looking up at him. This was safe, this was good. He turned her around to face him, holding her even tighter. This time, she hugged him back without hesitation. One hand tangled in her braids, while his other arm clung to her waist .
Leaning so their foreheads touched, his eyes, hooded in the half light, took in every detail, and she drank in his familiar scent, of soap and sweat and rain-soaked earth. The others simply looked on in wonder, and Octavia smiled, just a little, like the first time she ever saw them hug.
She heard Lincoln's words in her mind: "Osir keryon ste teina." She had asked what it meant, and gazing at Bellamy and Clarke, who were walking side by side, he replied, "It means their souls are entwined."
Now she believed it.
Their linked hands looked natural, as if one were an extension of the other. A two headed creature, that's what they were. And as Octavia approached Clarke, she felt no resentment towards the older girl.
"You're such a bitch!" She exclaimed before kissing Clarke's cheek and pulling her into a strong hug.
Now Clarke walked away, with a Blake on either side of her, back to where she belonged.
(The second they were alone, Bellamy didn't hesitate to kiss Clarke senseless.)
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The actual translation for "Osir keryon ste teina" is "Our souls are entwined".
Lincoln was just using it as a general explanation. Just one of the many ways I imagined them reuniting. I will do an angsty, angrier one later.
Sorry for not updating, tons of homework and other stuff. Hope you enjoyed this!
